


The Gravity Feels Funny Here and the Clock is Wrong

by glitterandlube



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandlube/pseuds/glitterandlube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is the summary: I will never out do this bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gravity Feels Funny Here and the Clock is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for The Return, Part One  
> Notes: I wanted to write a fic like eleveninches.  
> Beta: eleveninches...see how well that works out for me? Thank you E, for going way over and beyond going over this. Twice! I will build a shiny statue of Michael Shanks outside your dorm room. With or without glasses, your choice. Anything that is still wrong with the fic is completely my fault because I can't read or write in any language.  
> Note to BFF: You will note I did not mention midgets once! For you!  
> Dedication: This fic is for _inbetween_ even though she might hate it. She continues to put up with me despite there being no good reason to do so.

Subtitle: The History of John Sheppard AKA The end never justifies the means.

John hates his new team. In two days, he's already messed up all their names because he's fucking turning into Rodney, and he answers all their questions in Czech just to be an asshole.

Every morning, he cheerfully calls out: "Dobre rano. Ja jsem tady na dovolene jsem mym mladencem," [Good Morning, I'm here on vacation with my boyfriend] because it's the fucking truth. A long, lousy vacation where his boyfriend left him on the side of the road when their car broke down, and he has to hitch rides with truckers who don't understand the words, 'virtue' or 'I'm not touching your cock, you dumb fuck.'

John once spent an entire summer in Alabama when he was sixteen surviving on his wits, his jailbait good looks, and a grandmother with a mind so far gone, she thought the houseplants were trying to eat her face. It probably wasn't nice of John to leave all those Venus flytraps all over the house, but the only way to deal with bugs in the South is brutal, merciless death. He wore cut-off shorts a lot, and let perverts grab his ass in exchange for free food and beer. He gave his first blow job in an alley to a guy named Samuel Thomas Kensington III, and he remembers the guy laughing when John spit his come on the bricks of the three thousand year old bar. It's kind of why he never notices when people hit on him unless they get directly in his face and slap him. Well, one girl slapped him.

He feels the same age now, watching all these serious people walk past him. He's pretending in full force, this is not in his real life, it's a sick extension of the fog planet minus the zombies and track pants. His team is full of earnest kids who nod and try to figure out how to spell whatever he yells at them. He leans over to one and whispers, "Mohl bych se vecer sejit?" and the kid twitches and glances at the other two before saying, "Yes, Sir."

After John explains he's going to have to turn him in for violating 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell,' then adds, just kidding–that's a little Air Force humor there, and the kid stops wetting his pants, John calls Rodney to tell him he hates him, and that if he ever shows his miserable face in Colorado, John is going to drown him in the nearest body of water even if it's the lab sink. Rodney responds by calling him a bitch and telling him to go suck Mitchell's cock if he's so wound up.

John doesn't want to admit that he hates Cameron. The guy acts like he is on crank all the time and thinks Jesus walks behind him. The first time he mentioned a higher power in front of John, John almost choked to death on his coffee and Teal'c had to give him the heimlech. He couldn't breathe right for about three days after that. The only time his pride has ever been more hurt was when Rodney elbowed him in the face right as he was about to go down on him, and John had a black eye FOR FOUR GODDAMN DAYS.

It had almost been worth it to see Rodney act contrite. He kept apologizing and leaving pudding in random places. John happily collected the vanilla, and butterscotch, and the sign of true deep love, chocolate in the jumper, in his bedroom, in Elizabeth's office. He misses Rodney being in his personal space so badly he gets in a vicious, borderline death-inducing, screaming argument about pie for fifteen minutes with the guy whose sole job seems to be announcing chevrons. Then he gets in a fight with Rodney over whether or not the Catholic Church means to keep encouraging drag in young boys. [Rodney's stance is yes, and John's stance is, "Shut the fuck up, I'm sorry I ever told you I was an altar boy, you sick fuck. Stop asking for pictures."]

He and Rodney don't talk for a whole day, and John ignores the earnest, wide-eyed children on his fake team, and Landry, and the Bible thumper, and Dr. Jackson, who acts way too much like wants to get into John's personal space, and stays hidden behind his desk sulking. When Rodney finally does call, John spends ten minutes comparing him to the piss-stenched camels he lived with for three days in Saudi Arabia before starting in on how fucking awesome Samantha Carter looks with her shirt off. Rodney calls John a cunt, and says a lot of rude things about John's personal hygiene and they go back to talking twenty-five times a day.

When John is on the phone with Rodney for the fifth time that day, because Rodney calls out of pure spite every single time someone offers to bear his love child, John starts throwing knives instead of darts. John frowns at holes in the wall and listens to Rodney rant on about people who weren't smart enough to use crayons, much less handle plutonium. Rodney has this elaborate plan he titles, 'flash cards for retards' that explain the Anthropic Principle and why it's only okay to break physics if your name is Rodney McKay.

[One time when Radek, John and Rodney were very drunk they wrote N = RPNeLCT and solved it over five whiteboards to come up with the amount of alien life left in the universe that was going to try to kill them. The number, surprisingly, was five.]

John mutters, "Meredith McKay," very quietly, but Rodney still hisses threats into the phone about John's hair and dick going missing in the middle of the night.

John finally has to interrupt him after the twenty minute sidebar on dimensions of space and invisible bugs that crawl on your skin that John is thinking very carefully had better be a fucking lie Rodney is making up, or John will never ever be able to move again: "Rodney, why the hell didn't you tell me the people here were so goddamn strange?"

"As opposed to what? The aliens who don't wear pants? Or the one that made you five years younger and gave you shinier hair?"

"They found two sergeants in a supply closet yesterday with duct tape, a roll of bubble wrap, and a loofah. What the hell is a loofah and why would you want it near your dick?"

"It's this scratchy thing you use to remove dead skin cells, and I have no clue why anyone would want it near their dick." Rodney huffs. "That's pretty kinky."

"That's pretty fucked up, is what it is, and why do you know what that is, anyway?"

"One, because I know everything, which is why you asked me, and two, as amazing as it seems, I have in fact been around a woman. What about you?"

"Which one of us is Kirk in this equation?"

John can hear Rodney rolling his eyes. There is a dull thud as Rodney attempts to maim one of his sycophants and tragically misses. "Who caught them?"

"Dr. Jackson. I think they tried to convince him it was part of a cultural ceremony. He probably would have fallen for it if one of them hadn't started giggling. The people on my fake team remind me of a boy band and Mitchell was singing Beach Boy songs yesterday. Please get me the hell out of here because I go insane."

"What do I get in return?"

"I'll buy you food. Chocolate. Hookers. I don't know, what do you want?"

"A blowjob."

"Can't one of your groupies take care of that?"

"No, I want a blowjob from a Lt. Colonel. If I can't have a blonde one, I want you."

"How about I drag Carter down there and we can all have a threesome? Since you're out of your damn mind, why not go all the way with it?"

"Are we still having dinner tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Is Elizabeth still on suicide watch?"

"How many times have you called her?"

"Thirty-seven."

"Jesus, Rodney, you haven't called me that many times. I feel kind of jealous now. I'm not important anymore? You don't want to stalk me?"

"You stalk me, asshole. Every time I turned around, you were there, messing up my work, making faces at me, waving your stupid hair around. You know what? I don't miss Atlantis at all. I love my minions, they all listen to me, and don't argue, and goddammit, one blowjob. ONE!"

John smiles at the ceiling. "I'll think about it."

"Bastard."

"My parents were well and legally married, Rodney."

"They were filthy liars. You were conceived in a trash heap on the side of the highway."

"I was conceived in the back of the coolest car known to man."

"Oh Jesus Christ, gross, who the hell tells their kids that? God, no wonder you are afraid to let anyone touch you, you probably have flashbacks to your birds and bees speech. Here son, this is where I knocked up your mother. Use a condom, don't be an idiot like me. Was there marching afterwards? Did he make you wear a hat?"

John is laughing. "Maybe. I blocked the whole thing out. I think he used airplanes as a metaphor for cock. I really don't know."

"Well, they have those gearshifts. It's all kind of phallic."

"Everything is phallic if you give it enough thought."

"Vaginas aren't phallic. Georgia O'Keeffe paintings aren't phallic. Nuns aren't, huh, you know, nuns maybe kind of are phallic. Why the hell do I talk to you? I lose so many brain cells I'm probably on Daniel Jackson's level now. I feel cold–next I'll start having an urge to learn about ancient civilizations. If I end up with a Ph.D. in a social science, no amount of cloaking in the Pegasus Galaxy will save your ass."

"I don't know, maybe deep deep down, you want a degree in psychology."

"Right, because what really interests me is the interworkings of people's minds. Just the other day, I was thinking, huh, I bet John was misunderstood as a child and that's why he's such a prick to this day. You know, when I stare at these flower paintings, I get kind of turned on."

John drops the phone on the ground and kicks it across the room. He can hear the tinny voice coming out of it, "Sheppard! Are you okay? What the hell was that?" He has his head on his desk, and is laughing helplessly. He fucking hates Earth, he hates every square inch of it, and not having Teyla and Ronon feels like his left arm was ripped off, but he still has Rodney. He hits the speaker phone button and Rodney is all the way up to calling 911 and hyperventilating.

John pats the phone and sighs. "Rodney, can I get deep and meaningful with you for a minute?"

Rodney is silent on the other end for a minute, before saying, "Okay, just stay right where you are, I'll have the ambulance there in thirty seconds, I swear."

"Rodney, I just want to share with you, what's wrong with that?"

"Oh my God, did you take any drugs while you were off-world? WHAT DID I TELL YOU, SHEPPARD, ABOUT TRUSTING SLUTTY WOMEN?"

"Something about space clap? I wasn't really listening."

"Jesus. Of course not, don't listen to the smartest person in two galaxies, it's not like anything I say is ever valuable or important, you MORON."

"I jerked off when you were talking about your theory about reverse gravitational fields last night."

"I know, I could tell by your panting right into the phone."

"You didn't say anything."

"Ha! I threw in extra math for you."

"I kind of want to do it again right now."

"Feel free, take some pictures with your cell phone. I'm bored out of my mind with these people. They keep up with me even less than you losers did."

"Aww, Rodney are you admitting that I'm not stupid? I'm touched." John is slowly pulling the phone back to him by the cord.

"Oh, you are touched, alright. I was talking about Radek. I understand about your slowness though, what with the inbreeding. Americans are all filthy."

John rubs the earpiece against his crotch. "You hear that Rodney? That's your mouth on my dick."

"That's about as funny as the time I fell asleep in a meeting and had to wear a hat for two weeks afterwards because you wrote 'cocksucker' on my forehead."

"That was goddamn hilarious, Rodney."

"Was it really necessary to write it in four different unwashable shades?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Bitch. Are you going to go join the bubble wrap league now?"

"No, I'm going to go practice being bent over my brand new couch for tomorrow night."

"I'm making my flight earlier. One of these little fucktards has to be smart enough to change a reservation." Rodney snaps at some random person. "You! Get me an earlier flight to Colorado Springs! GO!"

The guy stares at Rodney in shock, and says, "Um. I'm a ceramic engineer. I don't know if I.."

"Well, fuck, you're probably not even allowed to touch a computer then. Go find me someone smart enough to type."

The guy opens his mouth, but Rodney is faster. "Run! Monkey! Run!"

John is laughing so hard on the other end he's face down under the desk, almost crying.

"God, I don't know why I like making you laugh, you sound like a hyena about to die."

"You know it turns you on."

"That doesn't turn anyone on, Sheppard. It doesn't turn light bulbs on. Don't oversell yourself, you're prettier with your mouth shut."

"I thought you wanted a blow job."

"Mother! Fucker! I meant when you aren't making any noise. Choking on my dick doesn't count."

"You don't have the balls to shove your dick down my throat. The last time we tried some actual dominance you yelled the safe word before I even got my pants all the way unzipped. You'd think with all your verbal abusive tendencies you would be a fucking pro at it, but no, it's all a big disappointment in the end."

"Shut up you whore, we can't all be bad Annie Lennox songs, and at least I've never had anyone jerk me off with a sock puppet."

"Hey! That was a personal memory that I shared when I was really really high. You're not allowed to use that against me in casual conversation. Have some decency."

"You should fit right in at the SGC, come to think of it."

"Are you thinking about it right now?"

"You're going to stay bent over that couch."

"Nice. Try to be a little more forceful, nothing is happening."

"I'll buy some combat boots and smack your ass with them tomorrow. Hey! That's really goddamn expensive! PUT IT DOWN! NO! NOT LIKE THAT! SON OF A BITCH!"

"Problems?"

"Problems. Issues. I am an island in a sea of piss. They are trying to get me to take anger management classes, I told them I was managing it just fine. Carson bitched at me about my blood pressure last night for fifteen minutes, and then started talking about his mom. Oh, and Jeannie wants to see you again. If you touched any part of her, and I mean, any part, a cuticle, you will be losing all of yours."

"Come on, Rodney, you know there is only one McKay I want to molest."

"Hmm. Give me some porno voice here, I want to hear some moaning while I watch the minions scatter."

"What do I get out of being free entertainment? Go watch some porn you pervert."

"You get my cock."

"Oh, that makes me want to whip it out right now." John tilts his head back and fake groans. He's hitting the desk to make a thumping noise.

"I hate not getting laid. Are you sure we can't be in an open relationship?"

"Only if you want me to shoot you in the face."

"Well, you've already shot me in the chest, I don't see how.."

"God, shut up. For the four millionth time, it wasn't on purpose. My jaw still hurts from making it up to you. Get the hell over it."

Rodney sniffs, "Stop minimizing my feelings. It makes me feel insecure."

"What the fuck? Are you sniffing glue down there again? I was right about that psychology degree, wasn't I?"

"No, my Tivo thinks I'm a women, it keeps giving me Oprah."

"Your Tivo has a good reason to think you're a woman, Meredith."

"Hey, one of the kids here threw salt on me yesterday and started muttering in Latin, do you think that means anything?"

"I've had a priest throw holy water at me."

"Why do you always have to win?"

"Oh please, Mister, I'm smarter than you in my left ear lobe."

"That's true though! You're just obnoxious."

"Oh man. That hurts me, Rodney, it does, almost as much as that time I saw Samantha Carter naked in the shower. Wait, I think that was yesterday. Huh."

"Don't think I won't figure out how to teleport right this goddamn minute to come up there."

"You want me to get on my back and wait?"

"I never want you to get off your back. Well, sometimes you can be on your knees."

"That's mighty generous of you."

"Well, you know me, always thinking of others."

"Rodney."

"Yes?"

"When are you coming up here?"

"In about four hours."

"Okay."

"I'm going to..." John hangs up the phone. He has yet to let Rodney say good-bye to him, it creeps him out too much. He never wants to hear Rodney say anything like that to him. When Rodney finally gets there, it's in a flurry of cursing, and throwing bags at John, who is grinning like a jackass. John can't stop circling Rodney and touching his arm. It's the best he can do to say, hey, I miss you, I hate this.

Rodney gives him a hug in the doorway to the main exit. They block off the entire section and everyone around starts pushing and yelling. Rodney lets go of John and snaps, "Hey, he just came back from a war and is the reason you're all still standing there." Some people look contrite, but most people give them dirty looks as they shove by. John just stares at Rodney. His eyes are bluer, they look more vivid, but John's not going to say that.

They barely make it back to John's crappy ass apartment before they wind up on the floor, on the ugliest brown carpet ever made by man, pulling at each other's clothes, bruising each other with intent. When Rodney finally flips John on his back, John is shaking with need, and digging his fingers into Rodney's biceps. He wants Rodney to have marks, wants to see them tomorrow when they wake up. Going off world without him is scary, and feels like a lie. Going off world without Teyla and Ronon makes John feel hollow and blank. It's not really an area he needed any more help in.

Rodney gets him slicked up fast and pushes in, carefully, but with intent. John is pulling him closer, it's the only time he can be touched, the only time he can be close. They both can skip words and use something else to get the point across. Not that Rodney shuts up, he's still talking, with his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his dick. Every single part tells John something different. He's always understood everything Rodney was saying to him.

When they're both done, and Rodney is bitching about rug burn and his back, John shoves him off. Which works for about five seconds. Rodney is immediately back, reaching for some part of John to mess with, it's his other other hobby. John smacks his hand, but doesn't move away. He feels quiet and happy, and it's like a little part of Atlantis, minus the ocean, the metal, and everything else cool. They lay there until Rodney's back really does start to hurt. John pulls him up off the floor and drags him to the bedroom. When he gets back with a washcloth, Rodney is flopped over the whole bed and reaching for him.

When John wakes up the next morning, Rodney's face is on his stomach, and John watches him breathe carefully. Rodney is potential energy in his sleep, and John likes to think of a bomb waiting in quiet before it destroys everything around it. As he carefully touches Rodney's face, it's the first time since they came back to earth that he doesn't want to kill every Ancient in existence, living, ascended, second cousins who are all flaming assholes. He misses his home, this place feels like a waiting room to die. But Rodney's hand is in his, so he swallows the anger, and the spite, and thinks of hands, and fingers, and movement instead. Rodney makes every straight line curve just a little bit, and John could never say no to that.

 

Rodney makes him origami animals as they are waiting for Carson and Elizabeth to arrive at the table. A swan, a horse, a cat, a hyena that Rodney waves at him mockingly. John flips him off, and they almost end up making out at the table, but they see Elizabeth and manage to not duck under the tablecloth. Rodney has his hand on John's thigh, though, and they listen to Elizabeth pretending to say words. As soon as it becomes a possibility to leave, John wants it right then. If they die, they die, he's got Rodney with him, he's got Elizabeth and Carson, he's getting Teyla and Ronon. Fuck it. Those who are about to die don't salute a damn thing. He looks at Rodney, frantically programming, fingers moving over the keys, muttering. John snipes at him, makes him go faster, be better, be what John needs him to be.

As they go through the gate, Carson starts to panic and Elizabeth goes quiet. John and Rodney are already in the same place, ready to go, ready to be a team. John catches Rodney's eye, and Rodney smirks a little bit. They touch their shoes, sneaker against combat boot, soldier against scientist, before John looks to the front and goes forward. He has what he needs by his side because John doesn't have faith. He doesn't need it. He has a family.

 

Insert Comments Here OH NOES! THE ROBOTS!!! CLOWNS!!!


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